


No More Mistakes

by rael_ellan



Series: Writing Practice Pieces [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Arthur is conflicted, Arthur/Merlin can be implied if you're looking for it, Drabble, Gen, Percival is a good bro, The Knights have Magic Cloaks, Wingfic, somewhat lowkey, written as writing practice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 02:19:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14582766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rael_ellan/pseuds/rael_ellan
Summary: Arthur's made too many mistakes over the last few days, and he doesn't want to think about any of them. Except actually, he really, really does.





	No More Mistakes

**Author's Note:**

> I've had something of a writer's block for a while, so I'm taking some advice I saw on tumblr and using a random prompt generator to give me ideas for half an hour's writing. 
> 
> This one overran quite a bit, and deviated completely from the original prompt, but it's not bad for the first thing I've written in years. There's definitely scope for a larger story here, but I don't know if I'll ever get round to writing it, so here it is as a drabble.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

Arthur stood on the ruined wall of a manse and stared about him. Yesterday, the old house had been standing in a clearing. It had been a welcome resting point for their small search party, despite the leaky roof. 

A flutter of red caught his eye, and he turned in time to watch Leon unfold from his cloak and stare in horror around them.

“Any luck?”

Leon shook his head. 

“Is this… does this… By the gods, Arthur, how far does this _go_?”

Arthur grimaced. Yesterday, from his spot on the wall, he’d been able to see the distant tops of Camelot’s towers. Now, there was nothing but thick, impenetrable thorns on all sides, stretching out to the horizon. 

In the thick of it, the vines were wound so tightly around one another that it was impossible to see the sky, and even harder to keep their bearings, even with one or other of the knights flying above them for the short bursts their cloaks allowed. 

Leon hesitated, then reached for his shoulder.

“Sire – “

“We’ll rest here for the night,” Arthur decided. “No point pressing on if we can’t see. It’ll give Gwaine and Elyan a chance to catch up to us, too.” 

“Yes, sire. I’ll… I’ll tell the others.”

Leon braced himself, and jumped off the wall just as Percival floated up on Arthur’s other side. He was still favouring his left arm, but the bandages were at least clean this time. He tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Gwaine and Elyan brought some unfriendly faces back. Oh, and they brought our escaped prisoners back, too.”

“Very funny, Percy. Is that everyone?”

“All accounted for, sire. It’s going to be slow progress with them, though.”

Arthur nodded, and tried to guess how much twelve irascible would-be murderers would add to their journey. From here, in the deepest snow, it had once taken him two days to ride back to Camelot. Two days, he thought, would be the best-case scenario this time. 

Percival was still looking at him. 

“We’re making camp here again tonight. Make the best of it,” Arthur said as he turned back to stare out across the writhing mass of vines.

“Sire – “

“I want the prisoners secured _properly_ , this time, Percival. We can’t afford any more inconvenient delays.”

When it was clear he wasn’t going to speak again, he heard Percy sigh.

“No, sire. We won’t make any more mistakes.”

Arthur nodded, and graciously ignored Percival’s subtle accusation. He felt the air shift behind him, the familiar feeling of energy being pulled into Percy’s cloak as it folded around him and reformed into the stiff cloth wings that had given the Pendragons their name. 

“Trusting him wasn’t a mistake, sire.”

Arthur heard the rush of air over Percy’s wings as he jumped from the wall and floated down to join the raised voices of the others as they set up camp. He heard Gwaine cry out, a smattering of laughter. One of their prisoners began to complain about food, and there was an awkward pause before Leon volunteered to make a stew. 

Arthur stayed on top of the wall, staring out at the world, until the sun dipped beyond the horizon, and darkness closed around their meagre camp. The knights doled out watches without him, and had settled down to sleep, curled around their weapons, before Arthur dared to move. 

Shielded by the shadows, he turned away from Camelot and back the way they’d come, from the heart of the tangled thorn wood. 

He took a deep breath, bolstered his failing resolve, and hoped that, wherever he was, Merlin could somehow still hear him. 

“I _do_ trust you, you know. Even after… after all that. So you better not break your promise. Or it’s the stocks for you, Merlin.”

He drew his cloak around him, felt the magic pull at the air, and let himself fall.

Merlin would come back. 

He had to. 

Arthur wasn't going to make any more mistakes.


End file.
